Warhammer: Rebuilding the Golden Age Starting with Farming

Chapter 114 Engineering Departments Three, Four, Five, Six... (4k complete)

Deep within the gravel belt, shadows were dappled.

Reagan Lazarus stared at the radar screen in front of him, his eyes bloodshot.

It's been two hours.

Two full hours have passed since those two mad dog-like landships left.

The radar was completely silent, except for the occasional biosignal that drifted by.

"Captain, we have to go."

The first mate whispered a reminder from the side, his voice revealing an unconcealed panic.

"We only have enough fuel to maintain low-power cruising. If we don't leave soon, once those two mad dogs realize what's happening, or if we encounter some other predators, we really won't be able to leave."

Reagan gritted his teeth, crushing the cigarette butt in his hand into powder.

He knew it was time to leave.

Sending out an advance team is a huge gamble in itself.

I'm betting that the mysterious Horisonburg forces will reason with me, and that they'll even take a liking to the blueprints I have.

It seems now that the gamble was lost.

The convoy was most likely double-crossed or simply eliminated as intruders.

"Notify the engine room to prepare the engines for warm-up."

Reagan's voice was hoarse, carrying a sense of tragic heroism.

"Let's head south and try our luck at the edge of the Sea of ​​No Light."

Just then.

"Sizzle"

A loud crackling sound suddenly came through the communication channel, followed by an excited, piercing shout: "Captain! Captain! This is the convoy!"

"We're back! We didn't die!"

Reagan lunged at the communications station, nearly tearing the microphone off.

"What happened?! Did that faction accept you?"

"Accepted! Accepted!"

The team leader's voice was filled with an almost manic excitement, the incoherent ramblings that came from witnessing a civilization far beyond his comprehension.

"Captain, you absolutely won't believe what I'm seeing!"

"The road surface is a paved surface without any cracks, and there isn't even a single rusted steel bar in the walls!"

"Their men were all wearing those fully enclosed powered armors, and the weapons they were carrying were ones I'd never even seen before!"

"And they even gave us food—radioactive compressed rations!"

As Reagan listened to these descriptions, images instantly flashed through his mind.

A smooth road surface means a high level of infrastructure capability and material redundancy; smooth walls mean perfect anti-corrosion technology and maintenance system; and power armor means top-notch individual weaponry.

It seems my judgment was correct; the other party was indeed no ordinary warlord.

Judging from the tone of the description, he is very likely a reclusive master of black technology, a descendant who truly inherited the legacy of the Golden Age!

"All ships, listen to my command!"

Reagan abandoned his thought process and simply tossed his brain aside: "Maximum engine power output!"

"Destination: Due North, Horisonburg!"

The massive, ugly "Scavenger" roared into action, its tracks kicking up clouds of dust as it raced northward.

Two hours later.

They passed by the previous battlefield, the place where the "Fuck Your Grandma" and its escort ships were destroyed.

Reagan stood on the bridge, looking out the window, and his legs started to cramp.

What a spectacular, yet terrifying, scene of dismantling!

More than a dozen massive heavy-duty engineering drones were hovering above the steel ruins.

They extend multiple robotic arms, with plasma cutting blades at the ends of the arms emitting blinding blue light.

Armor plates up to half a meter thick were easily sliced ​​open like butter under the cutting knife.

The huge lifting electromagnet attracted the cut metal block and lifted it directly onto the waiting heavy truck next to it.

The entire process was seamless, without any unnecessary movements, and the efficiency was outrageously high.

Reagan was stunned.

In his entire life, the shipbreaking he had ever seen involved thousands of laborers with oxy-acetylene torches and hammers, hammering away for months on end.

And what I'm seeing now—

"So that's—their engineering capabilities?"

The first mate swallowed hard.

"What if these drones were used to dismantle our ships—"

"accelerate!"

Reagan interrupted him, his eyes growing even more fervent.

"Full speed ahead!"

Finally, Horisonburg came into view.

The black steel fortress stood at the edge of the wasteland, exuding a chilling aura.

The "Scavenger" slowly slowed down and stopped three or four kilometers away from the city wall.

Reagan straightened his oil-stained captain's uniform, preparing to deliver a moving surrender speech over the radio.

however.

Before he could even speak.

Several black drones roared in and hovered in front of the bridge of the "Scavenger".

A young, indifferent, and disdainful voice came from the speaker beneath the drone: "Stop immediately, you wrecked ship belching black smoke."

"If I take one more step, I might not be able to resist opening fire."

"7

Reagan froze, then quickly grabbed the microphone: "Sir! We're here to pledge allegiance, to join Deep Space Industries!"

"We have the technology, and the blueprints—this ship may look dilapidated, but its firepower is still formidable—"

"Is it intense?"

Andy expressed deep doubt about this: "My scan results show that your ship's propulsion system consists of 826 different types of internal combustion engines connected in parallel."

"There are no exhaust filtration devices whatsoever, not even a soundproofing system or anything like that."

"Your thermal efficiency is only about 23%, leaving the crew with nothing but noise and carcinogens."

"Look at that plume of black smoke trailing behind you, it's practically covering my solar panels!"

"You fully realize that such a large source of pollution is absolutely prohibited from entering Horisonburg!"

To be fair, getting the mimicry multi-alloy was indeed very satisfying, and Andy had essentially verbally agreed to surrender.

But when Andy actually saw the Scavenger in person, he was almost in despair.

In particular, his initial assessment of the crew was very pessimistic.

He believes that any organization capable of producing such industrial waste must have an extremely low-quality workforce.

It will most likely be filled with laborers who only know how to swing shovels, overseers who wield whips, and meat shields with no technical skills whatsoever.

Introducing this group, aside from consuming food and oxygen, will not only fail to provide any advanced production capacity, but may also lower the average intelligence level of the entire deep space industry.

Reagan, microphone in hand, froze on the spot, as if struck by lightning.

He considered many reasons why he might be rejected.

For example, the other party doesn't trust him or thinks highly of his abilities.

But to his utter surprise, the reason was—environmental protection??

You think he's dirty? You think he's noisy?

This is a wasteland, man! What land-based warship doesn't puff out black smoke?!

A ship that isn't smoking is a dead ship!

Brother! Shouldn't you reflect on whether you're being too civilized and too clean?

But Andy's attitude was very firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

For an industrial zone engaged in precision manufacturing, the "Scavenger" garbage mountain, emitting hundreds of tons of waste gas per hour, is simply a monster.

The vibrations alone can cause errors in the processing, not to mention the damage that the dust in the sky can cause to the satellites in the sky.

"Then—what should we do?"

Reagan was almost in tears: "Sir, we really have nowhere to go! If you don't take us in, we're doomed!"

There was a few seconds of silence on the communication channel.

Then another voice came through; it was Bauer.

"Boss, I don't think this ship is worth keeping."

"Except for the two main drive shafts which may contain a little refined gold, the rest is all junk."

"or----"

"Should we just have them evacuate the people and leave the ship here?"

"Anyway, those three next to us are also mining sites, so one more or one less won't make a difference."

Andy thought for a moment.

Although this ship is practically useless as a vessel, the crew is likely equally incompetent.

However, as a mining site, its value unexpectedly surpassed that of the three landships next to it.

Although the three ships were rich in refined gold, their materials were too uniform and extremely difficult to process, making them a special type of ore.

Unlike the "Scavenger," it is a huge, all-encompassing mobile scrap yard, containing everything from civilian copper wire and industrial rubber to ordinary carbon steel and all sorts of strange polymers.

"Disorder" is precisely the recipe that the current molecular reconstruction instrument likes the most. The more mixed the materials, the greater the space for development.

Even in this world where everyone's trying to be the worst, it's still quite difficult for a ship to end up looking like the "Scavenger" by the roadside.

In addition to the industrial sector, the subsequent construction of Horisonburg will also require a large amount of basic building materials.

You can't just take a warehouse full of high-end materials to make toilets, can you?

Isn't that just wasting money?

Now, if this ship is developed as a mining site, it can perfectly solve the massive demand for low-end general-purpose materials during the base expansion period.

That's acceptable.

"OK."

"Let's do it this way."

Andy spoke into the microphone, "I'll send a transport plane to pick you up, but this wrecked ship must be shut down immediately and scrapped on the spot, understand?"

With almost no effort, Andy tearfully accepted another large mining site, D.

Half an hour later, ten heavy industrial shuttles landed on the open ground next to the "Scavenger".

The hatch opened, and fully armed guards rushed out to maintain order.

Reagan and his crew lined up to board the plane.

Andy was in his studio, watching the constantly changing headcount statistics on the screen.

[Receiving personnel statistics in progress —]

Total number of participants: 2145.

[Identity Verification:]

Combat personnel: 499.

[Logistics and miscellaneous staff: 301 people.]

Skilled workers (mechanical/electronic/structural): 1345.

"etc?"

Am I seeing things?

1,345 skilled workers?!

Andy stared at the outrageous number on the screen, and his logic core momentarily froze.

To be honest, he had already given up hope before seeing the data.

After all, that ship, both in name and appearance, exudes a strong sense of being a junkyard.

Andy's original expectation was that he would be lucky to find a hundred people who knew a little about mechanics and knew which way to screw a nut without stripping the threads; the rest would be used as laborers.

Now they're telling him that there are actually over 1,300 skilled workers here who could be put to work immediately?

This completely defies the common sense of knowledge discontinuity in the wasteland world!

Andy even suspected that Captain Reagan might have some kind of hobby of collecting engineers, and that the inside of that wrecked ship was actually a cruel, high-intensity sweatshop that forced people to learn technology every day.

But after thinking about it for a long time, I couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation, so I simply stopped thinking about it.

Regardless of where they came from, now that they've entered Deep Space Industries, they're Deep Space Industries employees.

On a wasteland planet like Zais, where the technology tree has gone astray, skilled workers who have survived are all treasures.

Although they lack theoretical knowledge, they have extremely strong hands-on skills, high adaptability, and rich practical experience. All Andy needs to do is provide them with a standard process and a group of assistants.

This is the perfect industrial worker!

No training required, you can start working right away!

"Oh no, this time we've really struck it rich."

Soon, more than a thousand new members were brought to the underground central hall of Horisonburg.

They stared at the sophisticated machines they had never seen before and the drones busily darting through the air, speechless with astonishment.

Where is this place?

The Kingdom of God?!

There is no radiation, the air is fresh, the temperature is suitable, and there is a faint aroma of engine oil!

Andy stood on the platform, looking down at the group of new employees.

Everyone was present, so we started the reorganization.

Deep Space Industries originally had a very simple structure, consisting of only Engineering Department 1 (the original Vault crew) and Engineering Department 2 (the original Rust Brotherhood).

Now that there are more people and the team has grown, a more detailed division of labor is necessary.

"Everyone, listen to my command!"

Andy's voice echoed through the hall via the loudspeaker.

"From today onwards, you are official employees of Deep Space Industries."

"I don't care what you did before. Here, there are only different roles, not different ranks or social statuses."

"We are now reorganizing the departments."

Andy pointed.

"The original Engineering Department One will retain its staff and be responsible for infrastructure construction and maintenance."

"Formerly Engineering Department II, led by Bauer, responsible for the power system and heavy machinery operation."

Then he looked at the group of new technicians.

"A new Engineering Department Three has been established."

"Responsible for operating the precision machining center and producing high-precision parts."

"Anyone who has ever repaired prosthetics or worked with electronic components, stand on the left!"

With a whoosh, hundreds of people walked over.

"Engineering Department Four"

"Responsible for the assembly of weapons and equipment and the production of ammunition."

"Those who used to handle firearms or repair turrets, stand on the right!"

Several hundred more people.

"Engine Department Five"

"Responsible for handling raw materials, operating the reconstructing machine's feed inlet and sorting work at the analysis station."

"Those who are strong and not afraid of getting dirty, stand in the middle!"

'

"Engineering Department VI".

"Those in charge of vehicle maintenance, who can modify cars and boats, go to the back!"

Following Andy's instructions, the more than two thousand people were quickly divided into six formations.

The previously crowded and chaotic crowd instantly became orderly.

The organizational structure of the deep space industry has undergone a qualitative change.

It is no longer the old model of everyone sharing the same pot, but has become a modern industrial system with each person performing their own duties and specializing in their own area.

The production capacity bottleneck has been completely broken.

Those machine tools that were previously idle due to a shortage of manpower can now operate 24 hours a day in three shifts.

Raw materials that were piling up in the warehouse and couldn't be processed can now be continuously transformed into finished products.

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